Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Well, while I was gone in sunny Southern California this weekend, visiting my parents, I received a "no, thank you" from Boyds Mills Press. They said my novel doesn't sound right for their list. But hey--Bloomsbury Children's Books should be reviewing my manuscript as we speak. Or at least, it should be sitting in a non-slushy pile on someone's desk. That is, if they haven't rejected me outright due to one of the following gloom-and-doom paranoid reasons:

Because I chose to send my work in a padded envelope instead of a manuscript box.

Because I hand-wrote the FedEx mailing slip instead of typing it, and used that instead of my ink-jet printed mailing labels.

Because perhaps somebody drop-kicked my package while it was in transit and it's now in less-than-pristine condition.

Because I was too cocky in the cover letter.

Because I ventured to include artwork ideas, though I emphasized that they were merely suggestions and made sure to note that I am also an artist.

Because my second rubber band broke, so there's only one skinny little one holding the whole humongoid thing together.

Because the book is just too damn long.

Because of some other manuscript-submission faux pas that I can't even imagine.

Yes, these paranoid what-if situations are all pre-reading. Possible post-reading reasons for rejection could be:

Again, it's just too damn long.

Not original enough.

Not edgy enough.

Wendy cries too much (although, in all fairness, her grandma does have cancer).

The characters are dim-witted (though perhaps they only seem that way because I already know what's going to happen).

Not enough excitement and adventure.

Too cerebral (a problem which seems to afflict my non-fiction).

So now you've caught a glimpse into what's going to be repeatedly running through my head for the next month or however long it takes for Bloomsbury to get back to me. Sigh. Time to start looking for other possibilities--that's not paranoid; it's only practical.

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I write. I create. I put some of that here. Read at your own risk. If there were an ampersand code for a little skull-and-crossbones, I'd totally be using it right now.

The term "aqua fortis" was the alchemical nomenclature for nitric acid, a necessary component in etching onto zinc plates for intaglio printmaking. I now use copper plates and ferric chloride almost exclusively, as they are much less toxic, but I still like the sound of "aqua fortis."